


First Kiss

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-31
Updated: 2005-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first kiss.  Sirius is coming apart at the seams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

They're so close that Sirius can see every one of Remus' eyelashes. He bets if he looked down he could see the pores on Remus' nose, but he's pretty sure he's not supposed to be thinking about things like blackheads and besides, if he looks at anything right now he may just throw up. He's awfully queasy and things are pretty crowded in his stomach, what with the herd of stampeding Erumpents he's got in there for safe-keeping, so he just looks at those eyelashes and tries to remember how to breathe.

He thinks there was a time when he didn't have to think about breathing, but that was before he and Remus started talking and he babbled and lost his mind and blurted out his feelings and when is he ever going to learn to just _shut the fuck up_? And now his heart's hammering some mad beat he doesn't recognize and his lungs only work when he tells them to and that's really bloody inconvenient because he has a _lot on his mind._

Like the fact that Remus is _so close_.

He swallows and wishes he had the balls to be the one to lean in closer and make this happen but he's a failure and a coward and an utter girl who's forgotten how to breathe. And _oh shit_ Remus is sliding their fingers together, and they're finished now because how are they ever going to work out whose hand is whose and go home with the right fingers, especially since he's a big girly prat who struggles at breathing?

Sirius swallows and thinks he might be starting to sweat, and Remus _smiles_ at him and oh _shit_ he can't begin to . . .

They're kissing.

It's a simple press of lips at first and it's warm and it's soft and he thinks his knees are traitorous bastards because _like fucking hell_ he's going to swoon but damn his knees are _not cooperating_. Remus' nose is smooshed against his cheek and Sirius is pretty sure he's not supposed to find that a turn on, that's gotta be weird, isn't that _weird_? And then _holy fucking Merlin on a chocolate-dipped McVitie_ there's a brush of tongue against his lips and his hands fly to Remus' arms and he's crushing the fabric of Remus' shirt.

He whimpers.

Another brush of tongue and his lips are parting even though he doesn't know what he's doing, except he does because there've been girls, but who _cares_ if he knew what he was doing then, because he doesn't know what he's doing now. This is _Remus_. And _oh_ Remus tastes like sugar quills and stale tea and maybe even dirt and _how is this not weird, that he tastes like dirt and I like it?_ He can't get enough of it, his tongue's chasing that taste, curling and smoothing against Remus' and there are firecrackers under his skin, tiny, tiny firecrackers that keep popping and fizzing and _oh I am toast, I am toast and eggs and baked beans and spam because he just bloody fucking **moaned**_.

He has to break away. His lungs are burning and _Remus just moaned_ and he's the most terribly umanly man-thing that ever did live and he ought to save himself the trouble and get on with it and die, but he'd like another kiss before he goes.

"Shit," he says, forehead against Remus'. And they're so close he can see Remus' eyelashes, and Remus' cheeks are turning the loveliest shade of pink.


End file.
